the moonlight tryst
by How Cookie Crumbles
Summary: Being a forgotten nobody can get very lonely, especially in adulthood. But sometimes, all you need is a familiar face. "You're going to enjoy yourself. Promise!" — #rachel/rob #adult!AU [WILL BE RATED M LATER]
1. Chapter 1

**The Moonlight Tryst (I)**

 **THE MUSIC THAT** plays in her ears is methodical, soothing, and she would have dozed off to the number had she not been working; the most she can do for the time being. The time is nearly 12 AM, and it was a Saturday. Mid-weekend, not the busiest at a small convenience store; unsurprising, considering the fact they didn't sell any vices besides some packs of cigarettes. Rachel Wilson huffs out an exasperated breath all of a sudden, abruptly cracking the silent barriers of her own store. "This is too _stupid_ ; I should be _home_ ," she complains to no one in particular, and after no answer from the stockroom ghost, she grumbles and all but slams her face against the counter. Her hair is a frizzy mess, tendrils of orange and pink sherbet chaotically framing her head. For someone who remained single, utterly no commitments or responsibilities, the mid-twenty year old kept herself a busy bee. If she wasn't working weekends at the usual convenience store, she'd be working at the hardware store, or perhaps do a shift or two at Joyful Burger. All under Larry, of course; he was nice enough to hire and full on train her since the tender young age of fourteen. Technically a year to her physical age since she'd ceased to exist, and a full seven since she escaped the Void.

By the time she'd come back, full swing, Rachel was already mentally older than everyone else. And she was _tired._ But she went with it for the next ten years and into her newfound adulthood.

She'd never bothered to check up on her parents, Jackie and Harold; their already unsteady relationship only crumbled further during the time she was gone. Whatever. She never bothered to check up on her little brother, if he even counted as such anymore, or his dumb baby friends. Or the couple of friends she supposedly had. Nobody remembered her, or even knew she existed. Literally. To mask that small bout of torment threatening to leak into a full storm at the center of her chest, she instead grabs an old, raggedy towel from the end of the counter, and begins furiously scrubbing at a certain stain that never goes away, pretending to be angry. Stupid. It's all so _stupid._ Of course forcing herself back into existence through pure remembrance is stupid; perhaps she should have just _left_ it be and not even—

The sound of the little chime indicating a customer has walked in interrupts her train of thoughts. Mentally tired from the near-mental tantrum she just threw at herself _yet_ again already took a toll enough, and frankly, she'd been a few splitting hairs away from starting to close up. _Memo to me; do_ ** _not_** _volunteer for more work hours._ She sighs, already full of snob and attitude, fist clenching just like her nerves are bundling together from the exhaustion and frustration. " _Excuse me,_ I'm sorry but I'm closing up for the night. If you could please—"

It's anti-climatic, how she looks up and stops herself. She doesn't stop because he's _hot_ or because she _knows_ him on a personal level. She's _seen_ him, after all… he stops by the hardware store multiple times, but there's a _spark_ of familiarity, and the sheer strength of it is what makes her dry, red-tinted lips clamp shut in a start; it's the first time she's really _noticed_. It's like she's fourteen again, and the undying mortification of her kid brother's friends _trashing_ her parent's house in that poor excuse of a birthday party fills her veins and fuels her anger. A hot flush scorches her cheeks because, _yes,_ she _does_ know this stupid kid and she _remembers_ clear as day how he'd been acting like such a _fool_ and it doesn't matter how different he looks, _she knows this stupid brat and she'd be da_ —

Except, well, she's not fourteen anymore. She's twenty-seven, nearing her twenty-eighth in a few days. She's not in her parents house, and she's not under some blackmail. Because that… technically never happened. Not according to anyone in Elmore, not even to her own brother or her parents.

So she stands there, gaze livid one second and then slack the other like she's been muted by a TV remote. Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, she waves him off like some fly. "Nevermind. You have about three minutes, so make it quick."

What Rachel doesn't bother to check is his expression of the same familiarity that crossed her own face, or how _confused_ he is at her _lack_ of a reaction towards his appearance. After all, growing up has done nothing but disaster to Rob's body.

From the corner of her vision though, perhaps she sees a long limb and hand lift up in a gesture that indicates he's about to speak, but she doesn't care either way. She doesn't intend to hear, and instead buries herself in the dumb smudge on her counter, imagining it's the face of Tobias, Jackie, Harold, Darwin and even Gumball for no sound explanation other than the fact he just always _looked_ and sounded so annoying. The velocity of her wiping becomes fierce, and the table nearly cracks under the blind pressure; yet the smudge doesn't go away, and neither does her determination. It is only when a candy bar is unceremoniously dropped next to her does she stop her incessant wiping. Darn. She had been so close to destroy Mr. Brown's and Mr. Small's face.

The venom that she spits is near instinctual at this point. "Really, dude? A _candy_ bar? At 12 AM in the morning?" She scans it anyway.

"It's 11:30." She can tell that he's speaking through grit teeth without even looking, her eyes never leaving from the screen.

"Whatever. Two dollars."

"Wait, _what?_ It's from the _rack_."

Eugh. She closes her eyes to stop the twitching along with the urge to rub her temples and punch the guy's face in. "So? It's still two dollars. Take it or leave it!"

"I only have fifty cents."

How the heck is that _her_ problem? "You know what? _Here—_ " a moment of frustration and pettiness overwhelms her in that second, and so she tosses it square into the guy's chest. She regrets it a second later, but she's just _over_ this whole thing. "Just take it and _go._ I'm _tired_ ; I don't need to be dealing with this right now," she all but slams the power button on the computer, effectively shutting down her register and any trace of motivation to ring up any more of this guy's items. He can eat a cactus for all she cares; though the from the looks of it, he could do without. What exactly happened to him anyway? Did she even want to know?

Did it have something to do with the Void?

Just as she steps out from her counter to flip the sign to _We're Closed,_ his voice grates on her nerves again. "What's your deal, anyway?" And this _does_ make her turn to fully face him, a perfect view for her to appreciate his disfiguration, the utter _monstrosity_ that stands before her. She isn't particularly _startled,_ but she is curious. Or would be, if she wasn't in such a trashy mood, now. "It's just a stupid candy bar."

She grits her teeth at this, "Yes… yes it is a stupid candy bar. That you got for _free_ ; so take it already and just go _home,_ Rob." Where that name came from to travel to the vicinity of her mouth and to spill out to her tongue is beyond her; it's like a spark or a dull bell that's _in there,_ a flash memory added onto the endless list of other useless information in her mind just waiting to be acessed.

This captures his attention even more so, and she notices this time. "You… you know my name…?" Despite everything though, call it habitual or instinct, she raises a defiant brow in question.

"Um, yeah? Why wouldn't I? _You trashed my parents house—!"_ she cuts herself short when she realizes what she's saying, and she tries to ignore that swell of her throat. She coughs instead, and without missing a beat, she changes the words like a twister. "I've seen you in passing."

"In… _passing..._ " he says hollowly, and upon further inspection, she realizes it's condescending disbelief and she's offended. Not only does he not believe her, but he's _insulting_ her with that stupid narrowed eye of his. She doesn't like it and she likes his faraway gaze even less; like he's… considering something, thinking about memories that _shouldn't_ have happened but they _had._

" _Yes."_ she repeats, hissing through teeth to get her point across; she crosses her arms and cocks her hips. "In passing; got a problem with it? You're only second rate to _nothing_ in this stupid town; you come by Larry's Hardware Store _at least_ thrice a week for your dumb inventions. How exactly _hard_ is it to remember your single-syllabic name, _Rob?_ "

She doesn't much care for how his eye thins into a dangerous slit, or how the static in his cheeks and limbs seem to emphasize the stagger in his step, _or_ the deep, unhappy scowl that captures his face like water to a cat. The last car to that train of thought makes her almost giggle. Almost. Yet, despite his offensive take, she can tell he pushes past those barriers, struggling to focus on some singular thought that she cannot read. "You… _said_ my name."

"I did. Your point?"

His scowl only gets deeper, and his eye only gets thinner. " _How_ do you remember my name? Nobody here ever does." She can tell that the question _do you know me_ is sitting right at the edge of his tongue; well, she's not going to humor it, that's for sure.

"I'm _not_ everyone in this town; for you to insult my intelligence is pretty darn mediocre of you, to say the least. I advise you not to dig yourself deeper in this whole, kid. Cheese _off_ already."

But he isn't deterred, and he takes a step closer; not threateningly, for she isn't stupid enough to let herself be taken advantage of in such a way, but whether it's the sharp limp in his stride or because of what seems to be a feeble prayer etched on his face, it's unnerving, and Rachel takes a small step back. "That's _not_ what I asked; _how_ do you remember my _name?_ " Her silence doesn't disengage him from whatever he's on, unfortunately, so he keeps at it. "I'm not _stupid,_ you know, and I don't think _you_ are either. I _know_ you..." That makes everything in her world freeze, if only for a second. "But I… _can't_ remember.. from _where_." He sounds so _broken_ with those few words, and it makes her quiver in familiar, overwhelming, sadness. The gaze in his eye is so far away and so beyond her. It makes her want to cry; because she too, knows what he's gone through. More or less. Different place, same time; same situation, different details. It all adds up. And, as if it's _his_ fault, his black, clawed and deformed fist rubs something out of his eye in abrupt frustration as he groans lightly. "For _darn's sake!"_

So Rachel decides to be _nice._ Just this once.

"You came to my 14th birthday party," He looks at her like a saint who's flown down to answer his prayers, like she's some messiah enrapturing the environment around her with silvery wings and a jeweled crown. "I didn't invite you, but you came. You were one of my little brother's friends, and you wrecked my parent's house." Not that… it technically ever happened. A thought makes her scoff, "You didn't bring a date." He blinks at that, and after a moment or two, she starts to snap back into her exhaustion. She sighs like she ran a marathon, and checks her nails like she were discussing some putrid gossip. "I was… _left behind,_ just like you." The implication is there; no need to say the Void out loud.

"How?"

Now it's her turn to blink. "Pardon?"

"How did you… _come back_ unscathed…? How are you _here,_ whole?"

 _Oh._

This… this isn't a conversation she wants to have; it's far less appropriate here in such a public vicinity, even if nobody is here. It takes Rachel a moment to realize that her mouth is trembling, like a pitiful puppy's. She feels _humiliated_ right now; anything potentially to do with the Void is enough to leave her pretty much an emotional wreck. So she turns away, biting her lips, opting to change the subject before it seriously starts to get ugly.

"That's absolutely _none_ of your business."

Or rather, just shut it down altogether. That works too.

He looks offended, like he was just slapped, and a small surge of victory runs over her. Good. The kid deserves to be put down a few just for her sake.

"I… _what?"_

She rolls her eyes, already bored with him. "I _said_ it's _none_ of your business. Now _leave_ already. I have to close and I would like to go home now." His name almost slips from her lips again, but she catches herself this time before it spills out. "Seriously, I don't even _know_ you." Where this encounter, this interaction spurned from she doesn't know and she doesn't _want_ to know. The less said words to each other, the better. That's how it _should_ be; the laws of this universe would not be so kind as to leave this as is if they kept… _interacting._ She's _adjusted_ right now, she has routine, and it's going by just _fine._

His face twitches, from his natural glitch mannerisms or because he's frustrated or even from both Rachel can't tell. Perhaps he steps closer, or tries to, but she's on the offensive now, and he stays put thanks to her scowl despite his own growing one.

"Obviously you _do,_ I wouldn't be pressing the situation if you _didn't,_ " she scoffs, shaking her head at his logic, but Rob doesn't let her slip a word in. It's his turn to speak, and he wants to make that clear. "I've seen you around too, you know. I don't miss your face when I go pick up supplies for my projects; but I could never quite _place_ your role in all this. Oh, but you're mistaken if I don't _notice,_ Rachel." Revealing that he knows her name lands a strange blow to her chest; it's heavy and unwanted and most _certainly_ not what she expected.

Even with her heart roaring in her chest, irises shaking, struggling to find a focal point _except for him,_ she still manages to speak. Though, it's not as strong as she would like. "So what? Do you know me or not? One second you're saying you don't remember me and the other you're saying that apparently you notice me when you're buying stuff like a creep. Can't make up your mind, can you?" This time, it is her turn to be suffocated by _his_ silence. He doesn't even get mildly miffed by her insinuation that he's a creep. His eye narrows, and for all his tom-foolery ways and stupid villainous quips, even at his age as a young adult, it's like he _knows_ something _more_ than her. Fat jerk. What does he know, anyway?

And like he hears her mental query, he shakes his head just once, like he's got the puzzle all figured out. His eye flickers to her, bottom up— if she weren't so caught up in _whatever this is,_ she'd say he was almost _checking_ her out— and then back to her face. "Maybe I was mistaken..."

There's something about those words that just _rub_ her the wrong way, and before she even knows what her body is moving towards or the thoughts that run through her head, her hand is already encased around his thin wrist, nevermind the slight buzz-feeling of the static. "And just _what_ exactly do you know, eh?!" she hisses through grit teeth and a clenched jaw. She's livid, and the funny part is that she isn't exactly sure why. "You don't get to just, _study_ me like some darn _insect_ and then decide I'm… that _I'm—"_ He's looking at her like he wants her to finish. Which is so _ludicrous._ She huffs and despite herself, grips tighter. Speaking is already a struggle enough as it is. But by the time she half decides she wants to say something, Rob looks... disappointed. "You don't know _anything._ I don't _care_ who you are; but you don't _know!_ "

Something in his eye sparks, and she can feel him become tense. And yet, he still doesn't remove her from his person; surprising, but not enough to deter her inner turmoil. "I don't know _what?"_ And, in a sudden movement, now the roles are reversed; his clawed hand now pulls her own wrist forward, bringing their faces closer for intimidation purposes. "At least have the decency to _say it._ I don't know about what? The Void?" He spits that out like asking her if she meant it in a jest, and what confounds her is the fact that she feels sheepish at the call out. Rachel tries to turn the other cheek, attempt to move away, but his grip becomes tighter; he won't let her move away from her mistake. " _Really?"_

She has enough of his confrontation to pull away harshly, but that's probably because he lets her. She doesn't like the thought. _"Yes!"_ she says. "Oh, _wow_ I'm so _sorry_ about what happened to you! A _mistake!_ Only to haul yourself back to the living world and become the _villain!_ Excuse me if I'm a little _less_ than impressed here!" She pushes past him in her fury, the words already spilling without her consent. "Try being stuck in the deeper parts of the Void for _nearly a decade,_ only to take yourself out of there because the loneliness was getting maddening! Try coming back to realize you're _older_ than everyone, and nobody remembers you to begin with! Try realizing you're weren't _just_ a mistake, but you were _never supposed to exist!"_ Perhaps the outburst is enough to shut him up for a second, and she think she put him in his place. Except he reaches out for her, and it's just _so wrong._ This isn't how this is supposed to play out! Rachel swats his hand away, and she's trying so hard to regain control of this situation, of herself. When did this get so… _complex?_ This started out as him wanting to buy a stupid candy bar! "Don't _touch_ me! _I don't know you!"_ and neither did he. "Stop _forcing_ this already! Get _away_ from me, and go back to your happy-go-lucky role! You have a major role; isn't that enough?" She's just trying to get by in this miserable life. "You won't even _remember_ this; you _know_ that!"

She would make _sure_ he wouldn't remember; it's an assuring thought.

That is until he pulls out the book

 _Her_ book.

The Magic Book.

"I wouldn't be quite sure of that, Rachel Wilson..."

 **( &. )**

 **A/N:** _This is a type of collab... project... thing with a beloved friend of mine. I roped her into this hell._ _This was supposed to be mindless smut; but err, I got carried away. It will come later thought! Just had to establish their connection and all that. Please be mindful this will become M later!_


	2. Chapter 2

**The Moonlight Tryst (II)**

 **THE NEXT FEW** days are an absolute torture after her run in with Rob; so much so, that Larry even told her she could go home. Rachel tried to refuse, but she was just too overwhelmed and too tired; she didn't even have the strength to make herself a fair case. Like a meek little sheep, she merely nodded her head and collected her jacket and purse, and went straight home, never once faltering. The only coherent thought that crept into her mind was _how_ and _why_. She'd been so terrified in that moment, when he showed her the book, that she went utterly still; much to her surprise, he didn't laugh or mock her, and he didn't even threaten her. He just looked at her with that same disappointed gaze, like his prayers _weren't_ answered… and that confused her to no end. Rob had simply _left_ nearly as soon as he showed her the book; no goodbye, no see you later, no nothing of anything. He just pushed the door open and left.

She doesn't bother coming in to work the next day; Larry would understand.

Rachel wasn't scared, she wasn't even worried if he had written anything in it; contrary to what most believed about that seemingly simple and basic notebook, it worked in strange yet specific ways. One had to be specific, yet also not so specific, to get a desired effect. It wasn't as simple as _'and then they kissed passionately'_ or _'the exchanged blows';_ the book is too much of a trickster and would take those _much_ too literally. Someone who mastered the book had to be a master of writing and structure as well. Rachel is sure that Rob isn't any of those things. No, what makes her uneasy and unable to even function properly in these last few days is the sheer question of _how did he know_ and _why did he take it?_ She received no answer no matter how much she asked in her head. So, by the time she is able to gather herself and regain _composure and control_ of her haywire nerves and frazzled mental state, Rachel does so with the snobbish grace that was instilled in her when she had parents.

Late evening, as she's filling out the inventory order for the hardware store, she doesn't gaze at him for even a second. Not even as she feels him coming close to her bubble. There's nobody here, save for that one kid standing in the corner waiting and she wonders if that's his doing; almost mockingly, as she imagine he'd be, he _holds_ the book in his crooked arm like a vice, almost urging her to look at him. "So; how long are you going to pretend I'm not standing here?" Her jaw clenches at that, and she risks a flicker of eyes through wavy sherbet locks; she wills for her jaw not to clench and for him to just go away. He doesn't. Obviously.

Slowly, she eases the pen down. "Hey, Rob; why don't you go ahead and utterly _su—"_ her mouth keeps moving on it's own accord, but the actual audio is drowned out by the bell chime, an indication that the kid left. Oh, but Rob heard her. He doesn't seem impressed.

"...Really?" He asks in a deadpan.

"Want me to say it louder for you, big boy? How about a visual, eh?" She's utterly disgusting and crude when being downright rude, and she means it with all the venom, poison and toxicity of the world. But she doesn't consider the actual implications of the words. So, frankly, his reaction is unprecedented. He starts back like he was slapped and he blinks a couple of times before clearing his throat. And is that… _red_ static? Rachel blinks. "Wow… you _really_ are a ki—"

" _I didn't write anything in it_." His words are rushed and lacking in small pauses for her to even to make sense of what he just said.

A delicate brow is raised. "Beg pardon?"

He releases a deep sigh, and rubs the back of his neck. "The book. I didn't… write anything in it."

His explanation leaves her confused and bored already. "Okay. So what do you want, a medal? Are you going to give it back to me? _How_ did you even take it from me to begin with?"

But Rob doesn't bother with her inquiries; just the first one. "What I want, is answers."

At this, she leans back into her chair, pen forgotten, inventory order form now crumpled into her fist and casually thrown into the trash. "And what makes you so sure that I'm going to give them to you, exactly?"

"Because you want to know some things too." She wants to pretend he isn't right; but the way her jaw tenses and her gaze flickers to the left is more than enough confirmation for him. Traitorous body. Gently, almost like a _truce_ of sorts, he places the book in between them, the gold embellishments glittering against the stark light almost brilliantly. But Rachel's narrowed eyes do not waver from his, and the silence is deafening.

She numbs it out by walking over to the front doors, flipping the sign on the door to _Sorry, We're Closed._ Lips are bitten and she takes her time in traveling back around and behind her counter. She's utterly a lovely, disheveled mess tonight; whatever. "Alright. Fine. What do you want to know?"

Rob lets out a nod of content; this is fine, this is okay and it's how this is supposed to go. Perhaps she hallucinates it, but his mouth quivers and the way he's trying so hard not to show that leaves her a little lost on how she's supposed to react to it. His limp is too evident from the way he leans a little too dependently on the counter, or how his long arms encircle their space like he's trying to hold the weight of this whole conversation. For someone so young, he looks decades older. She feels bad for him; she was never friends with him when they were kids, but she _remembers_ him just as she does with almost everyone else in Elmore. He used to be bright and blue, and he had a _pink_ eye before, right? She remembers that he was almost _cute_ in a dorky way and even had the hair of some boy-band vocalist; how time, how age _changes_ you so drastically. How the Void changes you. Vaguely, she wonders how he would have looked like if he didn't disfigure himself. She's startled out of her reverie when his voice cuts through the air. "How… how did you escape…?"

She doesn't even think about it. "The book."

 _How did you get the book?"_

She doesn't know why her throat closes up on the answer to that one. "It came to the Void one day." She shrugs, as if it's an answer to a simple inquiry about the time or the weather. "I… played around with it. It worked. That was that." She can tell that _Rob_ can tell that it wasn't _just_ that. There's more complexity to it; there always is. But he takes it, shown as he nods slowly; he accepts her answer, for now. If anyone came into the store would much too easily confused the two of a couple trying to get frisky with each other during store hours. The irony of the sudden, intrusive thought, on how ridiculous it utterly sounds, makes her want to giggle. So to stifle the possibility, she cups her mouth with her fingers, making sure no sound spills from her throat.

Rob doesn't notice. "Okay. Fine. Your turn."

Her sigh is barely audible, barely even visible from the rise of her chest. "Do you… miss it?" She doesn't even know what she means to say; a variety of things. His old body, his friends, his life; all of it, none of it. "… at all?"

He takes a second to consider that question, and instead of answering, he delivers his own. "… Do you?"

She takes a deep breath, "You have to answer my question. That was the deal." They made no such deal, but she doesn't care. Much to her surprise, he actually _chortles._ Not mockingly, or angrily or aggressively. A genuine prelude to what could have been a laugh. Huh. He almost looks like his old self; when he was young and wasn't afraid to smile big or ask how everyone's doing.

"Okay; fair enough," he shakes his head, entertained; relaxed for once. "Sometimes."

She expects something more elaborate; but she's left sorely disappointed. This time, it's Rachel who echoes condescending disbelief as she breathes out, "... _sometimes._ "

There's a minute quirk at the end of his lips; is it supposed to be a smile of sorts? "Sometimes," he reaffirms. "Got a problem with it?"

Cheeky son of a baguette.

She clicks her tongue, because, well, she understands too. After all, she wouldn't be herself now if what happened… didn't happen. Is that what he's trying to make her understand. "Your turn." She says plainly, tucking a strand of messy, curly hair behind her ear.

"Are you _okay_ with it all?"

"Do I have a choice? I kind of have to be," a pause. "I'm not… _opposed_ to it. It is what it is." Her half-hearted shrug is delivered a little too forcefully. "Rather be here, a forgotten nobody, than in _there_."

"That's… true," he agrees.

"My turn," she says, a little too eager to play this childish game. "How did you get my book?"

Rob only tilts his head. "I'm afraid that information is classified."

She raises a brow, tilting her own head in defiance. "Right, and I'm the Queen of England. So how about it?"

"I… I can't exactly _tell_ you… Else we'd really have an existential crisis on our hands; literally."

She doesn't know how she's supposed to take that answer, but surprisingly, she complies. Rachel lets out a sigh like she's exhausted. "This… this shouldn't be happening."

Rob raises an eyebrow, blinking; whatever good mood had momentarily struck him is long gone, pupil turned into a slit from confusion rather than aggressiveness as she would have initially perceived. "What exactly shouldn't be happening?"

Her hand twitches to grab the book, but she doesn't. " _This._ You… you shouldn't have… We shouldn't be having this conversation. We're… probably breaking some serious laws of the existing universe, or something."

"Breaking the laws of the universe is a mild offense at least."

"Perhaps in your case; not in mine. I'm not even supposed to… be here. I forced myself here."

"So did I."

"Because you were _meant_ to," she corrects him determinedly.

"And how do you know you _weren't_?" His tone is raising to be more defensive, and though she doesn't blame him, she doesn't exactly like it.

The whole world tipped on it's axis, and Rachel doesn't know why it's taken this long for her to truly feel the weight of it. This isn't right; what if she's sent back to the Void for even bringing it up? He's no God or supernatural being, at least, not powerful enough to stop the will of the Void; why does he seem so casual about the whole issue? Under different circumstances, perhaps she would have felt something akin to _in curiosity_ with Rob, maybe it would justify the fluttery feeling in her stomach as infatuation and being smitten as opposed to defense and aggressiveness. Whatever this conversation is leading.. This… this potential amicable mutual acquaintance needs to be severed in the bud. "Because I was _hated_ ; kind of a different territory than being a _world's mistake."_ She's getting more defensive now, legs and arms crossed over like she's trying to shield away any shred of logic and reason. "You became a villain. I'm…. I'm _nothing_." The word echoes hollowly in mid-air, both parties hung up from it, both drawing different experiences from the implication. Rachel closes her eyes, for a moment, _leaving_ herself vulnerable to the Void; just deciding to let whatever is going to happen, just _happen._ When she opens her eyes, her vision lands on Rob staring at her like he's analyzing her. Like he's genuinely curious about her and ready to hurl forward should she break. He doesn't give her enough credit, does he? "I'm _nothing,"_ she repeats; a hard fact, a simple truth. She's a big girl; a _woman,_ she doesn't need coddling. "It's just a simple fact of this life, Rob. Some of us, we just aren't meant to be more than what we are." If anything, Rachel expects another disappointed gaze, or even a petty tantrum and for him to leave again. She doesn't expect him to nod in agreement; her chest breaks at that, because she'd been _hoping—_

"You're right," he bites his lips, as if trying to physically hold back his own words, eye somewhere else, gaze distant and far away and just _beyond_ her and everything she's ever known. "Absolutely… Which is a good thing, if you think about it, because we get to choose who we are." And that's the moment the world of Rachel Wilson, Cloud Lass and abandoned slash hated creation deemed so by their universe, shatters into a million pieces. Rob is looking at her, not with disappointment or anger or frustrations. He just lets his words sink in for a moment or so. Wordlessly, he slides the book to her; not an invitation to write in the book, or even an insult to her person. But a _challenge._ "Tell me this, then; _who are you?_ And where are you going? _"_

For once in her strange, sad little life, she has no witty comeback. "I… I don't… I don't know," she barely manages to breathe out.

The insufferable 3D monstrosity that is Rob actually _smirks_ cheekily, and she'd be tempted to sock him if the situation wasn't so unprecedented. "You should get to it then."

She wants to find fault in this, and briefly she considers if he wrote in the book; she's tempted to flip through the pages, to _really_ break the man if he's so willing to play with fire like he just did. Her manicured hands are itching for the sensation of solidified pages, but her mind isn't quite on the same panel. What does he gain from pretending to be a _good_ and _noble_ guy right now? What is the possible angle? What is she missing? So naturally, she throws it back to him like a hot potato. "And what of you? Decided you're the good and noble protagonist of this little venture? Just stopped by to turn my world upside down? What's your angle here?"

He nearly staggers back, holding on to the counter for support as he almost falls over. A-ha! The guilt on his face is _unmistakable!_ She's got him. "M-my angle?"

" _Yes,"_ she hisses out in gleeful victory, wanting nothing more than to savor the fruit of her confrontational nature. "Your end game. Your _plan._ I dare say you even _planned_ this, didn't you? The candy bar, the book! Didn't you? It's all so clear now… Dr. Wrecker, at the end of it all is just that, no? A villain." She crosses her arms, proud of her ingenious thinking, and contrary to what, according to her, she _should_ be feeling, she's emboldened, and leans forward as she slams a hand against the counter lessening the space between them, with a growing triumphant smirk at the sight of his widening expression. "So tell me, then. Plans to send me back to the Void? Another plan to try and destroy Gumball? Take over Elmore? C'mon, give a girl a clue here, buddy! What was your plan, all along?"

Caught. Discovered. His face says it all, and the small sigh and slump of his shoulders is enough to confirm that. Defeated, he bites his lips, gazing at the space around them in case there's intrusion. "… To… to take you out."

Wait, say what now.

 **A/N:** _Alright! Smut should come up in the next chapter! Whoop-whoop!_


End file.
